


Memories

by deinonychus_1



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26564032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinonychus_1/pseuds/deinonychus_1
Summary: Robin has gone missing, and Pat is worried. Somehow, Alison finds herself getting involved in the ghosts' latest drama.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 79





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> My first Ghosts fic. Eek!
> 
> This fic is set post episode 1.3 Happy Death Day.

"Hello Alison."

She glanced round from where she was making a cup of tea. 

"Hi, Pat."

It had been two days since his death day, and he still seemed to be practically bouncing. Discovering that he was a grandfather, albeit posthumously, had added the world's biggest smile to his usually cheery demeanour, and, despite herself, Alison felt herself returning his smile.

Pat wandered over and inhaled.

"Tea. I miss tea."

Alison's hand twitched and she had to physically stop herself reaching for a second cup, because that would be silly. Besides, she really didn't want to encourage him.

"I don't suppose you've seen Robin anywhere?" Pat asked, with a quite impressive lack of preamble.

Alison thought for a moment.

"No, not recently."

Actually, now she thought about it, she hadn't seen many of the ghosts at all for the last couple of days, apart from the occasional encounter in a corridor. She had been starting to wonder if it might be possible to coexist without constantly having to deal with their latest dramas. Maybe the novelty of having someone new to talk to was beginning to wear off.

"It's just, no one seems to have seen him since the day the builders left, and we're starting to get a bit worried." Pat hesitated. "Well, I say 'we' I mostly mean me."

"I'm sure he's fine."

"It's not like him, though."

Alison resisted the urge to point out that they were all already dead, so it wasn't like anything could actually _happen_ to him. Besides, as far as Alison was concerned, the less she saw of Robin the better. With the possible exception of Pat, it was difficult to like any of them, but if she had to pick favourites, the caveman would definitely be somewhere near the bottom of the list.

Pat _did_ look worried, though, and as she had discovered on his death day, sometimes it was hard to say no to him.

"If I see Robin, I'll tell him you're looking for him."

Pat grinned.

"Brilliant. Thanks, Alison."

He cast a longing glance at the steaming teacup she was cradling in her hands, and then bounced off as abruptly as he had appeared.

Alison closed her eyes and sighed. She should have known the quiet was too good to last.

When Alison found Robin the next day it was entirely by accident, because she absolutely hadn't been looking for him. Frustrated at their lack of progress with the house renovations, she had turned her attention to the grounds, and, for the first time since they had moved in, decided to properly explore the land around Button House.

As she neared the lake, she spotted a lump of brown fur that she quickly realised was their resident caveman. He was sitting at the edge of the lake, almost concealed by the high reeds, but most importantly he was facing out over the lake and had his back to her.

She couldn't help herself. 

Alison crept as close as she dared, and then...

"Boo!"

Robin visibly jumped, and his head snapped round to look. The words, "Ha! How do you like it?" died on Alison's lips when she saw the expression on his face. 

"Robin? Are you okay?"

He turned back to the lake without a word.

Despite a growing feeling that she was going to regret this, Alison moved closer until she was beside him. 

"Heh. You win. Got me," he muttered, but there was none of the usual bite to his words. He wouldn't look at her, but now her first impression was confirmed. Robin had been crying. 

Alison hesitated a moment, and then sat down not quite next to him.

"Have you been out here for the last three days?"

He shrugged.

"Like it here."

"The others have been worried about where you've gone." She paused. "Well, Pat has. Not sure about the rest of them."

That got a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

She waited to see if anything would be forthcoming, but he was resolutely not making eye contact.

Where the hell was Pat, or any of the ghosts, when you actually _needed_ them?

"Robin, what's wrong?"

He didn't respond at first, and Alison was on the point of asking again when he finally spoke. 

"Me not remember."

"You don't remember what's wrong?"

He shook his head. "No. Not mean like that." He frowned, and Alison wondered for the first time just how much effort it was for him to hold a conversation in English. 

"Pat family vist. Was nice. Pat still remember. Others still remember. Old man dress like Captain with not real red flower come sometimes. Captain still remember."

It took Alison a moment to make sense of that last part. Then she made a mental note to keep a careful eye on their resident military ghost around Remembrance Sunday. 

"So, Pat's family visit has reminded you of your family? Is that it?" 

Because obviously it had been a monumentally long time since anyone had been to pay their respects to Robin's memory, if anyone ever had at all.

"Look, Robin. I know it must have been a ridiculously long time since you saw your family, but the important thing is that you remember them." 

At that he looked up and actually met her gaze for the first time since she had sat down. There was more desperation and pain in his dark eyes than she had ever considered it possible for him to feel.

"But that problem. Me _not_ remember."

And suddenly Alison understood.

Robin reached under his furs, and Alison had a momentary fight or flight urge until she realised he had some sort of bag or pouch tucked under the layers. He opened his hand and showed her two small items. One was a rounded pebble, but when she looked closer there were lines and a pattern scored into the smooth surface. The other item was a sliver of bone or ivory carved into the shape of a running horse. But this was no casual doodle or primitive stick figure. The rounded contours of limbs and muscles were picked out in incredible detail, the lines depicting the hair of its mane streamed backwards as if caught in the act of flight. It was exquisite. 

"Robin, did you make that? Before you died?" 

He prodded the pebble. "This made for me. Was gift." He pushed it aside and ran a finger almost lovingly along the horse carving. "This, I make for someone else. Good spirit. Keep safe from danger. But not finished. Never given. Too late." 

"Wow, that is beautiful, " Alison said, staring at the horse. "Who did you make it for?"

His fingers curled around the items and he put his hand to his chest.

"Someone special. Me feel, here. But me not remember."

Alison had a sudden mental image of Robin carving the horse, working in the flickering light of a campfire, his face a picture of concentration. Occasionally he would look across at someone - a wife? A mate? Maybe even a child. Someone he had wanted to protect.

She was almost surprised by the realisation that somewhere under all the fur and hair and broken English, he was still human. Mostly. Probably.

That realisation made what she did next marginally easier.

"I do understand, a bit."

That got a decidedly sceptical raised eyebrow and a quiet huff.

Alison deliberately looked away out over the lake, so that she didn't have to look at him, and hugged her knees.

"My parents died when I was young. And sometimes I can't remember what they looked like. I've got photos, obviously, but sometimes it feels like what I'm remembering _is_ the photos, and not really them. But I do remember how I felt when I was little and they were still around. Happy. Safe. Loved. I still remember that, even on the days when I can't remember my dad's face, or the sound of mum's voice. Some days that's enough. It has to be."

She stopped for a moment, more so that he wouldn't hear her voice crack, and then took a deep breath. 

"Look, I don't know how much sense that makes to you, and obviously it's on a massively different timescale, but-"

"Make sense," Robin said, and when she finally allowed herself to look at him he was nodding. He made eye contact for the first time in a while. "Some days, is enough. Some days..."

Alison nodded as well. "Some days it isn't. Yeah, I get those as well."

Silence descended, but somehow it didn't feel at all awkward. There was a small knot of worry in her stomach that she had made a terrible mistake revealing something so private to Robin, of all people. She honestly had no idea what he would make of it, or what use it would be to him.

And yet, when she risked a glance in his direction, it was immediately obvious that something had changed. His eyes no longer held that look of silent desperation, although it was still a million miles away from his usual look of mischief. 

"What you do? On bad day?"

Alison shrugged. "Curl up with a tub of ice cream and a box set."

He seemed to ponder that for a moment.

"Me not eat ice cream."

"Yeah, you missed out on that by a few millennia."

She suddenly had an idea. Not ice cream, obviously, but maybe he did need something to distract him from what appeared to be a particularly long-lasting 'bad day'.

It was time to call in reinforcements. 

Alison stood up. 

"Don't go anywhere. I'll be back soon."

She could almost feel his confused expression directed at her back all the way to the house.

"So this is where you've been hiding!" Pat exclaimed as he sat down next to Robin. 

Alison had half expected he might have disappeared again in the twenty minutes that it took her to find Pat, explain the situation, and get back out to the lake. But Robin was still sitting in exactly the same spot, absently stroking the carved horse.

"Not hiding," Robin replied.

"Well no one could find you."

"That because no one look here."

Sometimes you couldn't fault Robin's rather straightforward logic. 

Alison sat down on the other side from Pat, and hoped that it came across as supportive, rather than trying to trap him in a pincer movement.

"Listen, Robin, I know you're not feeling great, but there's no need to disappear off by yourself like this," Pat said. "In fact, when you're feeling down, that's when you most need to be around other people."

"Wanted quiet."

"Well, yes, I know what you mean. Sometimes we all want to get away from it all for an hour or so. But you've been on your own for three days. And can you honestly say that you feel any better now than when you took yourself off?"

Robin sent a slightly awkward glance in Alison's direction, and shrugged.

"Better now," he admitted.

"Precisely. Now that you've actually started talking to someone," Pat persisted. 

Robin seemed caught between getting annoyed and simply rolling his eyes at Pat's blatant cajoling. 

"Look, mate," Pat said, more gently this time. "I know I've only been here for less than forty years, and that's the blink of an eye as far as you're concerned. So you don't have to listen to me. But how about listening to a very wise man who said something really important to me a few days ago?"

Robin looked quizzical. Alison was just trying to work out exactly who around here might in any way qualify as a very wise man.

"Time passes. You heal. You find a new family," Pat said with a knowing smile. Then he pulled a face. "Well, admittedly it might be a completely dysfunctional family with a bunch of misfits that nobody in their right mind would ever choose, but you know, sometimes you just have to work with what you've got."

Robin actually chuckled at that.

"Very wise man."

Alison was still baffled about which of the ghosts might have come out with that particular piece of wisdom. Pat put a hand on Robin's back.

"So, I think Julian's been missing his chess buddy, and you know what happens when Julian gets bored. He's been threatening to give us another of his by-election speeches, and you know how that goes. Kitty won't understand half the jokes, Lady Button will take offence, and Thomas will start correcting his grammar and trying to compose his own speech, and none of it will end well. So really, you'd be doing us all a massive favour if you came back and distracted him."

Robin chuckled again. Then he sat up straighter, and tucked the carved horse back into his pouch. 

"So everyone need me to save day, _again_."

Robin glanced over at Alison and this time he actually did roll his eyes, and smirked. She got the distinct impression this was not the first time he had been called upon to rescue them from Julian.

"Well, I suppose if you want to look at it like that," Pat said. "But probably best not to actually say it to the rest of them, eh?"

Robin stood up and brushed himself off, as if the damp grass had any effect on his furs.

"Them just not like admit me only one talk sense."

"Definitely don't say that to them," Pat said, getting up as well.

Alison followed them, and realised that unlike her ghostly companions, there _was_ a damp patch on her jeans. Bloody typical. 

"Right, so I can leave you guys to it, then?" she said hopefully.

Pat gave her a thumbs up. "I think we're good, thanks."

Pat started heading back towards the house, and Robin moved to follow, but stopped. He turned back to Alison and held her gaze for a moment.

"Maybe me not only one who talk sense." He paused and for a second he seeemd to give her a genuine smile, before it turned into his usual smirk. "Sometimes."

He held her gaze for another moment, and then turned and went after Pat without a backward glance.

Alison watched them go, completely certain that she wanted nothing at all to do with any group dynamic where Robin the caveman was considered to be the only one talking sense.


End file.
